missing

a heart is a fragile thing,
to share it an act of trust.
to give it or have it taken,
one of nothing just.

for once it has gone
in the hands of another,
you must wonder if it will be cherished
or if they will even bother.
 

because nothing hurts more
than placing yours in the upturned palm
of a person apparently willing,
and watching with uprooted calm
 

as they vanish from your sight,
leaving you with a piece missing
and refusing to give it back.